Evermore
by shaye-bay-bay
Summary: When war threatens the kingdom, the King and Queen send their only daughter away to the countryside to keep her safe. Unable to tell anyone who she is, she takes refuge in McKinley Manor. Can the Princess not only survive the war, but find real happiness with those who live beside her? And if she does, will she be allowed to keep it when returned to the throne? FinnxRachel.
1. McKinley Manor

Hi all! I've been debating getting back into writing Finchel stories through this fic. I hope many of the people with me on my other story (that I promise I am still writing) join me for this one. But most of all... I hope you like this as much as I do. Thanks, as always, for joining me on this adventure :)

* * *

"Father, there has to be another way! Let me stay. Let me help you!" Rachel begged, clutching at her father's armor-clad arm as he shook his head no.

"There's no time for this, Rachel. You have to go. Now." her father barked, sweeping his only child beneath one strong arm as he propelled her out the door and down the stone steps to the courtyard. Rachel struggled to keep pace with his longer strides, her tear-stained cheek resting against the cool metal of his breastplate. She could hardly see her feet in the utter darkness, but occasionally the light of the moon illuminated one of the royal banners hanging from the walls, throwing a soft glow onto her path.

A plain white background, emblazoned with a brilliant golden star in the center. A celestial being, a promise of radiance and beauty. A symbol of light in the utter darkness of the night sky. The emblem of their kingdom, and memories of a happy and peaceful reign. Until now. Until the rumblings of rebellion had begun in Carmel a year ago, spurring angry mobs that soon became entire battalions. Battalions that were now encamped just beyond the castle walls, awaiting dawn for war to be raged.

No more peace talks. No more sanctions from the royal council. No more skirmishes between border troops. It would be full-scale war and bloodshed, and only one man would emerge as King – either Rachel's father, or the leader of the Carmel forces.

"We will send for you when it's safe…" he promised, brushing the nearby page boy aside so he could personally hoist his daughter into her saddle. He checked her stirrups, knowing they were perfect. They were always perfect. But there was nothing beyond this simple act he could do to ensure her safety. Even if she succeeded in her desperate escape, remaining hidden from the enemy until the war was won would be easier said than done. And they all knew it.

" _If_ it's safe." Rachel reminded him anxiously, shaking hands gripping the reins so tight her fingers turned white. Even despite the high walls, the ever-present wind carried the sound of the approaching army every time it blew. Swords clanging, men laughing. The specter of death and destruction hung heavy in the air.

"… If." The King agreed with a sad smile, brushing Rachel's hair out of her face. She attempted to memorize every inch of his face while he stood there. Every wrinkle on his skin the portraits didn't show, the twinkle in his eyes they could never capture. The way his dark brown hair had faded to a gentle grey at the temples over the years. How he squinted to study her without his glasses; glasses only her mother, his most trusted advisor Sir Leroy, and she knew about. It wasn't kingly to wear glasses, he'd said.

Right now, Rachel was wishing very much that her father was no king at all.

"Now, mind your manners. Do as you're told, no matter the task. You must not allow anyone to suspect who you really are. The Lady of the House promises her protection and her silence. But you must not give yourself away to the others. We cannot risk the exposure of your location." Her mother reminded her, placing a comforting hand against the rough spun wool of Rachel's new, humble country dress. Rachel nodded, not even bothering to wipe the tears from her eyes anymore.

Queen Shelby nodded, satisfied that her daughter would honor her promises, before removing her hand and stepping back to join the King.

"God bless and keep you, Princess Rachel." Her father offered in a soft voice, and Rachel bowed her head in acknowledgement. Silent tears slipped from her cheeks onto her dress, blotting the ugly tan fabric with wet splotches. She covered it with her black riding cloak, now blending in completely with the night. She placed one hand over her ornate gold star necklace, clutching her last lifeline in this horrible tempest that had swept into the castle, before tucking the royal symbol safely inside her dress, away from view.

"Be safe. I'll … I will see you soon." Rachel said as confidently as she could, taking a deep breath in an attempt to force her tears to stop. But the sadness of the royal family could not be tamed, only moved from one sufferer to the next. As her daughter stopped, the mother began. Queen Shelby turned away from the sight of their desperate act to save their daughter from the impending danger, clutching a hand to her mouth to stifle the sound of her sobs.

"Go!" King Hiram barked at her two escorts, and with a small, urging kick to the side of her horse, they were off. Once they cleared the gates, the small party spurred the horses to top speed, not daring to risk even a minute for fear they'd be discovered. The horse's great muscles flexed and released underneath Rachel's legs as they practically flew across the familiar path towards the woods, the thundering of hooves and heartbeats carrying them away into the night.

Rachel didn't turn until they were safely into the cover of the trees to glance back at her home. Even then, it was only for a moment. Not a single fire burned in the castle tonight; they'd all been doused to cover her escape. None of the warmth she remembered from her happy childhood, no sign of the people that still lived there. Just cold stone and iron. Rachel shivered, despite the warm spring air, but forced herself to turn her gaze back to the road. To the back of her dear friend Kurt who rode ahead of her, and listening to the reassuring thumps of the hooves of Mike's horse behind her.

If she was being forced to flee, at least she had Kurt and Mike at her side. Two sons of high-ranking nobles at court, they'd been her reluctant but obligated playmates in childhood. Kurt and Mike would often (and loudly) complain about how bossy she was during games, or how selfish she could be. They'd attempt to avoid her at every event, only to be forced to sit at her side and do as she wished.

But over time, as they grew into their teenage years, the two boys had developed a fondness for her. Despite the difference in their rank, they'd begun to relate to each other more as siblings than friends. Rachel would force both of them to follow along with her ideas for masquerades and performances at court, where she was always the star, no matter their objections. Kurt would pinch her, subtly, every time her opinions or actions went too far and risked a scandal. Mike would whisk her away onto the dance floor when she began to dig herself a hole in conversations.

They were her constant companions. They made her a better person. A real princess. So while she couldn't stand to leave her home, she took small comfort in having them with her as they raced through the dark trees and into the unknown. Towards their new home, for the time being.

Towards a place called McKinley Manor.

* * *

"Heaven help us. She's here." Quinn sighed with annoyance as three horses appeared over the horizon. She angrily pushed the curtains aside, turning to face Finn with a pleading look. "Why does you mother have to accommodate some poor, pathetic orphan anyways? It's not like there aren't places for wretched people like her to go."

Lady Quinn Fabray had always been beautiful, ever since they were children. With her soft features and blonde hair, she'd been every child's favorite playmate. When they had grown, she'd been the object of every local man's affection. She was the May Day Queen every year at the festival, and a never-ending line of suitors practically bombarded the Fabray household to ask for her hand in marriage once she was of age.

And when Finn's father had died during the war, making him the new Lord of McKinley, Quinn's attention had turned solely to him. He knew it was about his title, not because she wanted _him_ per say. Not that he minded, of course. He'd always wanted her, just like everyone else. Quinn was beautiful, intelligent but obedient, and wealthy. The picture of a perfect wife. What else was there to want in life? What else could he ever need?

A safe, stable life. A predictable wife, a good title, and the Manor.

Finn had yet to actually propose marriage to Quinn, but all their friends and acquaintances knew it was only a matter of time. They were practically engaged as it was, with Quinn spending all her free time at McKinley Manor with him and their friends.

"My mother says the girl's father fought with mine. He'd want us to take her in." Finn offered by way of explanation, edging past Quinn to try and get a look at the new girl for himself. The riding party was still far away, but approaching at a fast pace down the main road.

He found himself surprised at the apparent skill of the female rider. Quinn could (or would) never ride beyond a gallop's pace, declaring it unseemly to move any faster, and her ladies Santana and Brittany wouldn't even approach a horse. Santana announced the rough leather of the reins chaffed her perfect hands, while Brittany was too afraid of being kicked by one to even enter the stables.

But this new girl was keeping pace with her male companions as they practically flew down the road, expertly steering her mare around every divot and ditch in their path. She looked almost wild, with her hair flying loose behind her and skirts billowing in the breeze her speed created. He'd never seen anything like it.

"Well it's fine by me. Always happy to _welcome_ a new lady to McKinley Manor." Puck said, appearing at Finn's shoulder to watch the arrival as well.

Noah Puckerman had been Finn's right hand man ever since they were children. First as playmates, now as brothers in arms. They'd been pages together, then squires together. Now knights together, riding shoulder to shoulder. Yes, Puck could be … less than chivalrous when he wanted to be. Which was often. Which was always, really. But there was not a man in the kingdom that Finn trusted more, and his friend had always been at his side when he was needed. It didn't matter the cause, the issue, the reason; Puck was his right hand, no matter what.

"Who would be interested in your kind of welcome, Puckerman?" Santana asked from the corner where she'd been playing chess with Brittany. Or rather, Santana had been playing and then offering Brittany suggestions for moves of her own, since Brittany had always lacked the ability to even remotely understand the game.

Finn was sure he wasn't the only one to notice that Santana always let Brittany win.

"Only the most refined women in the country, Santana. No wonder it has never worked on you." He retorted, stepping back from the window to offer the two would-be chess players his arms. "Come on, ladies. We better go down and play nice with the new girl."

Santana rolled her eyes, but stood from the board and took his right arm, while Brittany took the left. He led the women out of the room and down the hall, only turning his head at the last moment. "Come on, you two. Your mother will be expecting all of us."

Finn was still watching the girl approaching on the road, beginning to take in her features as she at last slowed and approached the Manor itself. She was short, compared to the other women in his life. Probably no taller than his mother. But by no means was she small. There was something about her posture as she rode through the front gates, the straight set of her shoulders and steadiness of her grip on the reins that made her look formidable. Powerful, certain.

As the horse finally came to a stop in the courtyard outside, the female rider glanced up at the Manor house. She caught his eye almost immediately, having been drawn to the open window. Big, deep brown eyes seemed to stare into his very soul and Finn found himself frozen to the spot. The late afternoon breeze caught her wavy brown hair and blew it from her face, exposing her high cheekbones and olive skin tone. The exhilaration of the fast ride was still clear on her cheeks, making them a lovely shade of pink while her chest heaved in an effort to catch her breath.

The girl tilted her head questioningly, a small smile beginning to form on her full, pink lips as she continued to hold his gaze.

"Finn? What are you doing?" Quinn asked haughtily from his side, tugging at his right arm. With his focus entirely on the new girl, he lost his balance and tumbled away from the window and into Quinn's arms. Her annoyance buried for the moment under her satisfaction at their physical proximity, Quinn possessively looped her arm around his and led him out the door, down the grand staircase and out into the courtyard.

They arrived just as the girl was being helped from her saddle by her companions, her back to the group while she slid to the ground and removed her traveling cloak. When she turned, it was as if she had sucked all the air from the garden.

The sunlight caught her eyes, making them shine with intelligence and warmth. Though she was short, the sheer power she exuded made even Santana take a small step backwards in surprise. He felt Quinn's hand on his arm turn into vice grip, drawing him closer, clearly marking her territory.

To Finn's surprise, she didn't immediately address him. Rather she turned to his mother, curtseying gracefully in a sign of respect. And then, she spoke.

"Lady Hudson. Thank you so much for your gracious hospitality. Your kindness towards me will never be forgotten."

Her voice was like clear bells, playing a beautiful song in the churchyard. They lilted across the breeze, sending shivers down his spine. He did his best to hide it from Quinn, but there wasn't much he could do with her standing so close.

Finn's mother stepped forward from their unofficial welcome party immediately, reaching out her hands to the new girl. The girl took them both gratefully, squeezing tight as she smiled. A smile that warmed Finn to his absolute backbone to witness, causing him to shift his weight uncomfortably and clear his throat. Quinn shot him a nasty glare from the corner of her eye, having clearly had enough of his reactions to the new arrival, but didn't dare speak to him as the scene unfolded.

"Oh, my dear. You are most welcome in this house. Any child of my late husband's dearest friend will always be safe in this house." Lady Hudson assured her, an unspoken acknowledgement passing between the two women that Finn couldn't even begin to understand. It was only then that the strange, new girl released his mother's hands and turned towards Finn and his group of friends.

"May I present my son, the Lord of McKinley, Finn Hudson. And the Lady Quinn Fabray." Lady Hudson offered, gesturing to the would-be happy couple. The girl curtsied again to the both of them, dipping her head just slightly, before rising. "Finn and Quinn, this is Rachel."

"Just Rachel? No last name? No title?" Quinn asked, sickeningly sweet judgment practically dripping visibly from her lips.

"No, my lady. I'm just … Rachel." She said with a shake of her head, demurely clasping her hands in front of her waist.

"How… quaint." Quinn practically laughed, turning up her nose and relaxing her grip on Finn's arm, perceiving the threat to be neutralized.

But Finn hadn't taken his eyes off of her. Rachel. He merely stood there like the village idiot, smiling softly at her, taking her all in. Her dress was indeed plain, that of the local peasants, nothing at all remarkable to behold. But it was her _in_ the dress that enraptured him. It was modestly cut, unlike Quinn's red satin dress that prominently displayed her small waist and larger bust. But despite the coverage, Rachel still looked … absolutely beautiful. She seemed to be lit from within, by fire or heaven's light he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he couldn't bare to look away from her.

"These are my ladies, Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce." Quinn offered, subtly stomping on Finn's foot to get his attention while the duo behind them reluctantly curtsied in acknowledgement of their new guest.

Having been brought back to reality by the physical pain, Finn blinked rapidly, cleared his throat again, and used his free hand to gesture at Puck. "And this is my good friend, Sir Noah Puckerman."

Puck, the slimy bastard, actually _winked_ at Rachel. "It's a pleasure…" he said, bowing his head. Finn made a mental note to knock him firmly on his ass for that the next time they sparred together.

If the tone of the introduction had bothered her, Rachel didn't show it. She merely turned to gesture to the two men who had rode in with her. Finn looked at them for the first time; they couldn't be more different if they'd tried. One tall, one short. One with graceful features, the other more boyish. One clearly poised to speak his mind, the other with no visible desire to speak at all.

All together, the trio looked more like a band of strangers forced together by circumstance than actual friends. How could it be otherwise? How could such a diverse group … ever actually be together? Get along, or even like each other? Have one understanding, a mutual path in life?

"These are my companions. Kurt and Mike." She introduced. Again, no last names. No titles. It was as if the threesome was a group of ghosts, with no home, no family and no history to trace. Mysteries, it seemed, to everyone but his mother.

"I'm sure my son and his friend would be happy to show you all to your rooms. Ladies, would you assist me in preparing the tea? You all must be hungry after such a long journey." Lady Hudson smiled, not taking no for an answer as she swept back into the house.

Quinn huffed, but wouldn't dare to deny the woman she clearly wished to have as a mother in law. Before she left, she pressed up onto her toes to kiss Finn's cheek goodbye, all the while staring down their new guest. Finn's eyes were as wide as dinner plates, breath caught in his throat at the sensation. His expression didn't change as Quinn released his arm and led Santana and Brittany back into the house.

Now free of the ladies, Puck immediately leapt at the opportunity to prove his strength, assisting Kurt and Mike with the bags on the horses. This left a wildly flustered Finn and the new girl Rachel alone in the middle of the courtyard.

Cheeks stinging red in embarrassment at Quinn's boldness, he was about to turn to Rachel to apologize before he heard it. Soft, sweet laughter. Rachel was laughing.

"Oh dear, I think she likes you. Or rather, I think she dislikes me already." Rachel giggled, shaking her head. Finn let out an awkward attempt at a laugh, his hand rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"Quinn can be… well. Quinn." Finn gave up, shrugging his shoulders. He was relieved to see Rachel still smiling at him, even if some part of her mirth didn't quite reach her eyes. There was a sadness there, a loss. Of course there was. She'd suffered a terrible loss recently. Why else would she be here? He was such an idiot.

Finn frowned, bowing to her like he should've done when they were introduced, mentally kicking himself for not thinking of it before. "You have nothing to fear from her. You're welcome here as long as you like."

"There's…no need to bow to me. I'm … I'm no one special." Rachel insisted, lowering her eyes to the ground as her hands knotted in the fabric of her dress.

"I doubt that." Finn said immediately, prompting Rachel's eyebrows to arch in surprise … and alarm? No, that couldn't be it. Finn coughed, searching for any explanation to his words that didn't involve how captivating he found her. "Anyone my mother receives that warmly must be _someone_." He settled on, smiling reassuringly at the newest member of the household.

Rachel seemed to relax at that, smiling again at him in return. "Your mother is very kind. She's been a good friend to my family. As I hope to be to hers." She replied, glancing past him at the manor house.

"Let me show you to your rooms, Ms…" Finn trailed off, having forgotten her lack of a last name. His cheeks flushed a brand new shade of red, mortified at his seemingly endless supply of social faux pas. He was not cool or suave like Puck was, but he could usually at least manage to be normal in front of women. But not today. Not with her.

"Rachel. Just call me Rachel." She repeated again, reassuring him with a small smile and a nod.

"Then I have to insist you call me Finn in return." He prompted, extending an arm for her to take. She reached up her slender hands and took it, her touch gentle and warm. And yet he felt that from it, he could draw enough strength to slay any army. Even the formidable one that threatened the King and his castle as they spoke.

"Alright then. Finn…"


	2. Philemon and Baucis

Thank you all for your kind words on Chapter 1! It really does help to hear positive feedback, and I'm glad you're all enjoying this new adventure for our baby Finchels as much as I am.

* * *

It was a full two weeks before Finn ever got the chance to speak to Rachel alone.

It was weird, her two companions Mike and Kurt never left her alone. At least one, but usually both of them were hot on her heels wherever she went, staying close to whisper into her ear or be one step away should she need anything. He'd tried to ask Kurt about it once, but the guy had brushed him off with a dismissive shrug and a non-committal answer. Something about them being so close they were practically family, how he'd spent his life looking after her and being here didn't change that.

Well then. That still didn't make sense to him. Finn had spent his whole life around Puck, Quinn, Santana, and Brittany. And he didn't care about any of them the way Kurt and Mike clearly cared about Rachel, and vice versa. Sure, he loved his best friend. And the trio of girls had always been there, part of his social circle. They went to public functions together, always sticking together as a group. They occasionally traveled together, whenever one of them would get an invitation to a ball or high-class celebration. They rarely talked about their interests or their families, but then again Finn didn't really consider himself a 'talker' so he didn't mind.

He considered them his good friends, always had. But Kurt, Mike, and Rachel were seriously making him question if he really knew what true friendship even meant. What it looked like, what it could do. How it made otherwise ordinary people greater, because they were together …

Rachel sought Kurt and Mike out at every turn, the three of them practically moving as one entity rather than three. They would share inside jokes over dinner, ribbing each other in ways that Finn had never dared with Quinn for fear of being screamed at, hit, or completely iced out. Kurt would tell Rachel she was a self-involved brat, Mike would point out that Kurt could be the same, and the three would dissolve into hysterics rather than arguments. There was a safety there, a security that no matter what was said, they were still thick as thieves.

Every night, they would stay up by the fire way later than the rest of the household. He'd see them there, whenever he snuck back down the stairs close to midnight for a snack or something. Kurt and Rachel sitting together on the couch, laughing away with tears in their eyes as Mike reenacted some hysterical story from their mutual past about a bear and some guy named Matt. Or Kurt and Mike sprawled on the carpet at Rachel's feet while she read to them from whatever book had caught her eye that day.

They genuinely seemed to _know_ each other. Love each other. In a way that made Finn's heart burn with jealousy, and not just because he found himself utterly captivated by the dark haired beauty that had swept suddenly into McKinley Manor and turned his life upside down. They were visibly part of something special, the three of them. A bond, an aura surrounded them that glowed like the sun even on cloudy days.

Something his predictable, ordinary country life could not and would not offer him.

As he lay in bed one night, trying to decipher the avalanche of new emotions he was feeling since Rachel's arrival, it hit him. He wanted that for himself. It wasn't enough anymore, the life he'd had before they arrived. Now that he knew what could be, rather than settling for what he had? He couldn't do it. He _had_ to know what it felt like, that world the trio lived in.

He got his first chance on a rainy afternoon in the small McKinley library.

None of his usual gang was around, having been kept in their own homes by the sheer force of the storm outside. Kurt and Mike had gone to the market to pick up supplies before the rain started and had yet to return; the rain was probably keeping them away as well.

But Rachel was home. Alone, at last.

She was seated in one of the large arm chairs by the window, eyes flying across the page she was reading, hair cascading down her shoulder. She never bothered to pin it back or braid it, like Quinn always did. She was … natural. Purely herself at all times, and confident in it. It was intoxicating, and Finn could barely control his racing pulse as he approached her.

"… What are you reading?" he asked, gesturing pathetically towards the book. Rachel lifted her eyes and smiled immediately. It almost bowled him over, the way it seared his very soul with warmth. She placed a small slip of paper between the pages she was reading and closed the book, turning it over to show him the cover.

"Philemon and Baucis." She replied, tilting her head. "Have you read it?"

Finn blinked a few times, his mouth hanging open. He didn't even know they had a book by that title, let alone what the story was about. "Uhh… No. Not yet." He answered stupidly, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

"I figured as much. It is written in Greek, after all." Rachel giggled, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Greek?!" Finn balked, snatching the book from her with wide eyes and opening it to the page she'd been on. Sure enough, symbols he couldn't begin to recognize as language covered the page. "You can read Greek?"

"I had a very… extensive education." She smiled, taking the book back from him and placing it on the nearby table. Her deep brown eyes then turned back to study him, not a sound passing between them except the pounding of the rain on the window. Finn kicked himself internally for not paying any attention to his lessons as a boy. It hadn't yet occurred to him that Rachel was, among other amazing things, incredibly intelligent. What would she ever want to do with a dunce like him?

"… It's a lovely story, you know." She continued, gingerly placing her hands in her lap. "It's about this older couple, poor and destitute themselves, who nevertheless always welcome needy travelers into their home. Share what they have, give shelter. And one night, unknowingly, Zeus and Apollo come to the door. The two gods had experienced a run of … bad experiences with mortals." She laughed, clearly referencing yet more ancient mythology that Finn knew nothing about. Entranced by her storytelling, Finn sank down into the chair across from hers, eyes locked on hers.

"So when they meet this couple, they're taken aback by their kindness. To reward them, the gods have a magnificent castle made for them where they can live out the rest of their days. And they grant the couple's deepest wish … that they never have to live a day without each other." Rachel continued, a small blush dotting her cheeks as she tore her gaze from Finn's to look out the window. "The gods arranged it so the couple would die at the exact same moment. And when they did, of old age, they became two trees – an oak and a lime. Their trunks intertwined, ensuring that even in death… they were always together."

Finn barely realized she was done talking. He was still staring, captivated by the story and by Rachel's sweet, clear voice. Like the bells of a church, or a siren's call. He found himself leaning in towards her, his breath coming short. "… Wow."

Rachel's blush deepened, turning back from the window to look at Finn with a soft, reserved (and tentatively hopeful?) smile. "Do you think love like that is real? Or just in stories?"

Finn's eyes shot wider than dinner plates, and he cleared his throat awkwardly to try and force down the lump that had immediately formed there. "I uhh… I don't know."

Rachel nodded, pulling her knees into her chest to snuggle deeper into her chair as she studied him. "There are so many different depictions of love in stories. Some of it is dangerous, like Paris and Helen of Troy. Some of it obligation, like Acontius and Cydippe. Still more are all fire and passion, like Lancelot and Guinevere."

Finn perked up at that last one – finally, something he recognized. "From King Arthur. I know that one." He said proudly, prompting yet another warm smile from Rachel. "It's Quinn's favorite." He continued, instantly shoving his metaphorical foot in his mouth. _Why_ would he tell her that?!

The smile immediately vanished, replaced by a knowing shake of the head and a sigh.

"Of course it is." Rachel said with a visible roll of her eyes.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Finn asked, unsure why he was getting defensive. It wasn't like Quinn's opinions on literature were vitally important to him. Maybe it was just that he'd never had a woman in his life challenge what he believed before. Quinn had told him the story was good. Great, even. He'd read it himself, even if it had taken the better part of a year to finish, and he guessed he agreed. To be honest, he'd like the whole story of the search for the Holy Grail better than the romance, but he didn't mind it. But Rachel clearly disagreed. And was not shy about saying it.

"Quinn no doubt sees herself as Guinevere. And Guinevere is the worst." Rachel said instantly, eyebrows raised in surprise that Finn didn't automatically feel the same way.

"What? No she isn't." he protested, sitting back in his chair. Thunder rolled in the skies overhead, adding an ominous score to the conversation that had suddenly turned so combative.

"Umm, yes she is." Rachel retorted hotly, reacting to Finn's withdrawal by leaning forward in her chair towards him. Finn could see now what Kurt had meant when he'd called Rachel controlling – she wasn't going to let him get out of this conversation, no matter how uncomfortable he was with the way she was speaking. And honestly, it wasn't even her tone causing his discomfort. It was that she was trying to change his mind. Taking beliefs he'd held as long as he could remember, that he'd formed about Quinn long before Rachel ever arrived, and throwing them out the window.

And as much as this was what he wanted? To be in Rachel's world, to experience thoughts and emotions the way she did? The experience of the change was terrifying, and more completely encompassing than he'd thought it would be. It wasn't that his opinions on books or of Quinn were central to his sense of self, far from it. The fear was brought on by the concrete notion he now had of how deeply Rachel could affect him. How much she could push him, make him confront things he didn't want to, open himself up to things he was scared of. This time it was Quinn, but what would it be next time? And would he be brave enough, strong enough, to find out?

Nothing could've prepared him for Rachel, one on one. No amount of dreaming of her or studying her could've stopped the riot in his heart and head. She was a force of nature when she spoke, more powerful than the storm raging outside. His heart racing in his chest, he could only sit there and blink as she continued on with her argument.

"Guinevere's married to Arthur. Who is good and kind and doing the best he can for as many people as possible. He's a ruler of a newly formed nation, who understandably can't devote every waking hour to praising the very ground she walks on. So what does she do? Falls into the arms of the nearest knight who will. Arthur's best friend. But do either of them care how deeply that would hurt Arthur? Clearly not, since they do it anyways. What kind of love is that?! No good can come from a love that doesn't make either person better and costs a good man his life." Rachel snaps, shaking her head.

Finn doesn't move, but rather sits in silence as he watches Rachel slowly calm herself down. In her eyes, he can see it – she knows how wildly she'd reacted to a simple story. How personally she took it all, the specter of Quinn and her need to be adored hanging over the tale that in reality had nothing to do with her. She sighed, raking a hand through her long hair before she speaks again.

"… I refuse to believe that's what love is. Physical attraction and a desire to be desired." She frowned, lifting her eyes to Finn's. There was something else there, something she wasn't saying. And for all of his lack of studies, his lack of book smarts… Finn was people smart. He could hear what she wasn't saying as clear as if she was speaking aloud.

" _That's Quinn's version of love. That's all she will give you. Don't you want something more?"_

Finn shifted uncomfortably in his seat, lowering his eyes to the stone floor to keep himself from getting distracted by the dark brown ones that he swore saw into his soul. How… how could she know? With the very little time they'd spent together, and most of it in the company of others, how did she see him so clearly for who he was? What he'd ask for if he felt he could, what he'd seek if he wasn't afraid of looking.

"… Do you think love like Philemon and Baucis is real? Or is it just in the stories?" Rachel repeated her question from earlier, getting out of her chair to kneel in front of Finn's, forcing him to meet her eyes. She would not be denied. She couldn't be. There was so much hope and apprehension in her voice it nearly broke his heart in two. But all of his thoughts and emotions were racing through his mind so quickly that he couldn't grab any one of them long enough to form a real answer. He'd never felt this exposed, raw.

"I … I don't know." He answered slowly, giving her the same poor answer to the question that he'd given the first time. Rachel visibly deflated, her shoulders sinking as she looked away from him in embarrassment. She stood quickly, collecting her book and starting to make her way towards the door.

"Rachel, please. Wait." Finn begged, shooting up from his seat as well. Lightning flashed across the room, illuminating Rachel in an ethereal glow for a moment. He swallowed hard, words spilling from his lips before he could stop them.

"I don't know because I'm not sure that I'll have it." He practically spat out. Cheeks flaming red, the only solace he took was that it accomplished what he wanted – Rachel stopped immediately, back still turned. But she'd stopped.

"That… that kind of thing isn't meant for guys like me. I'm not a prince or a hero or any of those things they are in the stories. I'm just some guy. Nothing special. And why… why find out if it's real if I won't have it? Why punish myself with knowing?" he asked, cursing at the pathetic way his voice cracked at the end.

That sound. It wasn't the thunder, the lighting, the rain… laughter. Rachel was laughing. What the actual fuck?! When he'd just bared his damn soul like that to her? How could she?

"… You really don't get it, do you?" She asked quietly, turning to face him. Her eyes were slightly red, like she was on the verge of tears. But she was smiling affectionately at him, knuckles white on the edge of her book.

"You don't see how special you are. What a leader you are, without even trying to be. How much respect Kurt and Mike have for you. How you hold this house and your mother together. How you keep the peace between the people in your life, who might honestly kill each other if you didn't. How welcoming you are to everyone and anyone… even me." She admitted, clutching her book tighter. "I know who I am. What I can be like. And you listen to me. You let me sit there and rant at you just now without walking away or speaking down to me because I'm a woman. You didn't call me crazy, you didn't judge my reaction. You … You're not just some guy, Finn. You're better than all of them." She told him slowly, one solitary tear escaping her eyes.

That was all it took. Practically blacking out from the tidal wave of emotions that hit him all at once, Finn crossed the room to her side in three quick steps and pressed his lips to hers.

He heard Rachel whimper under his touch in surprise, and for a split second he panicked that he'd ruined everything. But then he heard her book clatter to the floor and two small hands wrapped around his neck and God he was in heaven. He pressed into their embrace, hands resting just above her tiny waist as the very essence that was Rachel wrapped around him. The smell of strawberries in her hair, the surety in the weight of her hands. The lightning bolt he swore she'd stolen from the storm outside that her kiss sent rocketing down his spine.

It was the scariest moment of his life. More than dueling, more than jousting. Because he knew he was only just beginning to fall for Rachel, and the incline of his fall would only increase sharply from here. He was going to lose himself in this girl, body and soul, and he'd have no control over when or how it happened.

And she? For all that he knew their connection was real, and it was, he knew so little about her. Where was she from? Why was she here? Could she be swept out of his life as quickly as she'd appeared?

A loud crack of thunder knocked both of them back into reality, making them jump apart. Rachel was panting, lips parted slightly. Finn had to imagine he looked just the same. Except for one thing – Finn was looking at Rachel as if she hung the moon itself. But Rachel… her expression was indecipherable.

"Finn? Rachel? Where are you?" his mother's voice called from the hallway.

"Rachel, don't…" Finn begged quietly, but it was too late.

"Coming, Lady Hudson!" Rachel called back, shooting Finn one last long gaze before running out of the library.

Finn scooped up the book she'd abandoned, pressing it against his own chest. He was as lost with Rachel as he was with this language. Both were a mystery, and both held such … wonderful, and new things for him to discover.

If only he knew how to unlock them.


	3. Fire and Wine

Hi my loves! Thank you again for all the wonderful reviews, keep them coming!

* * *

"Did I see you talking to Finn Hudson this morning in the garden?" Kurt asked in a faux casual voice, head tipped too innocently to one side to be believable. It was normally quite easy for Kurt to seem sweet and subtle, with his big brown eyes and softer features. But not with Rachel. Not today. And certainly not when Finn Hudson was the topic of conversation.

"You did. What of it?" Rachel replied tartly, brushing her hands off on the white linen apron she'd tied around her waist to rid her hands of dirt from the very garden in question.

"I thought we agreed none of us were going to make lasting attachments of any kind during our time at McKinley." Kurt responded, ducking his head down to try and catch Rachel's eye. No dice. The stubborn princess kept her eyes trained on her work, actively refusing to look at him.

"Who said I was making an attachment of any kind?" Rachel asked, avoiding Kurt's implied question with a question of her own. She was smart, and she'd known Kurt her whole life. Rachel knew where her dearest friend was steering this conversation. She didn't like it one bit.

"Oh, please." He balked, rolling his eyes so dramatically it must've physically pained him. "If I didn't know you well enough to know when you're flirting, Rachel Berry, I'd have known all I needed to know from looking at your dashing knight. He was practically salivating at the sight of you, stars exploding from his eyes, and-"

"I have to start investing in _this_ world, Kurt. Not our old one." Rachel cut him off, unwilling to hear anymore of her friend's negative descriptions of Finn. She tossed the ear of corn she'd been shucking into the nearby basket with a grunt of irritation before scooping up the next. This manual labor, hard as it was for a lifelong princess to acclimate to, was actually beneficial to Rachel. At least it gave her a productive avenue for the anger she carried constantly these days.

Anger. Boiling, bubbling, raging anger. It consumed her. Anger at the Carmel forces, for daring to rise up against the crown and ruin everything she'd ever known. Anger at her father, for sending her away in their family's darkest hour. Anger at her mother and Sir Leroy for not stopping him. Anger at Kurt and Mike, who kept her from getting too close to anything or anyone while they waited in purgatory for a letter Rachel was beginning to fear would never come. Anger at Quinn Fabray and her perfect blonde hair for merely existing, horrible harpy that she was.

Her only respite in the anger was Finn. The small smiles he'd send her over the dinner table, the sight of him practicing his swordsmanship with Noah Puckerman in the yard. The way he'd gallantly ask to carry her basket of vegetables for her, or would stop by with tea whenever Rachel and Lady Hudson would spend too long sewing together by the fire. How Finn seemed to sense what she needed without her saying it aloud, and hadn't mentioned their kiss from nearly two weeks ago.

Finn and Rachel merely contented themselves, for the time being, with their growing closeness.

Yes, Quinn and her horrible ladies in waiting kept stopping by the house. And Finn, too gentlemanly to do otherwise, would always sit with them and entertain them as long as they stayed. Rachel even feared sometimes that a part of him _did_ enjoy Quinn and her company, and would catch herself experiencing emotions she'd never felt before: self-doubt, insecurity. She hated them. And then in a moment of bristling self-preservation, she'd hate Finn for making her feel that way. She'd storm off to her rooms or into the courtyard, debating aloud if she could find a fast enough horse to get away forever.

But there he would be moments later, oblivious to how he'd caused her pain but desperate to apologize. They'd argue. Rather, Rachel would yell loudly while Finn got the occasional confused or defiant jab in. But in the end, they always called for a truce. Apologies and a return to normal, too fond of each other to ever stay mad for long, no matter the cause.

Walks in the garden, stolen looks over dinner, quiet nights by the fire with him polishing his armor and her reading aloud from her current book. Finn was the only thing Rachel wanted to claim as her own in this horrible situation. He gave her strength to carry on with her burden every day, and he had no idea what she was carrying. He had begun to smooth the rougher edges of her personality, helping her find a happy center to her scattered thoughts and emotions.

"Why would you ever do that? What is there to be gained from building anything worth building here, only to leave it behind when word comes from your father to beckon us home?" Kurt asked hotly, his own kitchen work of skinning potatoes long since abandoned to hold up his end of this argument. He was now perched on the edge of the worn wood table, arms crossed defensively.

Rachel slammed the corn in her hand to the wood table, the force prompting a flinch from Kurt. She was done with this line of questioning.

"We haven't heard from the castle in six weeks. Nothing. Not one letter. Do you really …" she trailed off, glancing nervously around the nearby corners to confirm the sound hadn't caused any curious servants to pop in before continuing, "do you _really_ think that's a sign that I'll be back on the throne anytime soon?" Rachel asked in a low whisper, sad eyes holding his. Kurt stared right back, but only managed to hold firm for a second before he too succumbed to the doubt.

"… I know." He conceded, shaking his head as he glanced out the kitchen window. "Mike and I have both been expecting to at least hear from our own fathers by now, if the King couldn't write. The silence … it can't be good."

"No. It can't." Rachel agreed, returning to her shucking duties to calm her racing mind. "And if we're never to return to court, we have to start considering our options here."

"Our options?" Kurt questioned, eyes wide in disbelief. "Oh Rachel, you can't be serious."

"Why not?" she asked defensively, depositing her corn in the basket and wiping her hands quickly on her apron before getting back to work. "It wouldn't be all together horrible to live out our days here. Mike seems to have made a nice friend in Lady Hudson's maid Tina. And I thought you and Mercedes were taking nicely to each other…"

"You're a Princess, Rachel. War or no, you're born royal. Do you really think you could be happy here? With just this? With just _him_?" Kurt asked, all tones of judgment stripped from his voice. These were real questions, not accusations, born of more than fifteen years at her side. Kurt knew her as well as she knew herself.

Rachel paused, his sincerity warranting a real moment of thought. Her hands hovered over her chore, frozen momentarily. Then she sighed heavily, shrugging helplessly.

"… He's already made me better equipped to be a future Queen than any of my tutors have." Rachel said quietly. "Finn taught me all about battle strategy. How armies fight, what knights need or how fast they can move. And he's taught me about … diplomacy, in his way. How to try and be kind, because there is nothing to be gained in causing pain to the innocent. And I don't claim to be good at that just yet, I am still myself." She giggled softly, prompting an equal response from Kurt.

"But I …" Rachel trailed off, lifting defiant eyes to Kurt's. "Kingdom or not, he helps make me the type of Queen I want to be. Strong, smart, talented, and independent but … gentle, too. Considerate, and thoughtful." Rachel smiled softly, lifting her previously stalled hands out to Kurt, who immediately took them and cradled them affectionately to his chest.

"I don't know yet if living at McKinley is ever going to be a wide enough world for me. But I might not get a choice." She admitted, leaning her head on Kurt's shoulder. "But Finn… him I can choose."

* * *

Finn snuck down to the kitchen late that night, as he often did on evenings following a particularly grueling training session with Puck. Today absolutely fit that description; he could barely lift his right arm to shoulder height, it ached so much, and his legs were heavy with exhaustion and soreness. As he made his way slowly down the steps to the kitchen, he was surprised to find the fireplace still alight. The shadow of a figure sat in front of it with their back to the staircase, a goblet clutched in one hand.

"Hello?" he called, prompting the person in the chair to jump in surprise and spin around, almost spilling their drink in the process.

"Rachel…" he breathed in pleasant surprise, beaming at the sight of her. Now that he thought of it, the day had been painful for two reasons; Puck had practically flattened him at training, and he hadn't seen so much as a curl of Rachel's hair since their meeting in the garden that morning.

"You caught me." She acknowledged sheepishly, sloshing the goblet in her hand. It was only then that he noticed the uncorked wine bottle at her side on the floor.

"Drinking alone?" Finn asked, ignoring the aching protests from his limbs as he made his way to her side. The bottle was newly opened, with only a glass worth of liquid missing. He must not have gotten here long after her.

"Yes. Yes, I am." Rachel admitted immediately, prompting a smile from Finn. Shameful activity or no, he always had to give Rachel credit for her unflinching honesty. "Care to join me and make this less pathetic?" she asked, holding up the wine bottle in his direction and nodding towards a nearby chair.

Finn nodded with a snort of laughter, snagging a goblet from the cupboard before sinking down next to her with a grunt of pain and allowing her to pour him a large glass of wine.

"Sounds like I'm not the only one who had a long day." Rachel commented with a small smile at the sound of his groan, sipping demurely on her wine with her eyes trained on his. They seemed to sparkle in the firelight, illuminating depths of color Finn wasn't sure he'd noticed in them before. Ambers and golds, maybe even a hint of chestnut. "What's your complaint?"

"Puckerman. He ran me ragged all day in training. He thinks if we train hard enough, we can win the King's Jousting Tournament in the summer." Finn frowned, rubbing his sore shoulder as he sunk deeper into his chair. Rachel squirmed, taking a large sip of her wine.

"Oh? You think … you think the King's Tournament will still take place, what with the war with Carmel?" she asked in a strained voice.

Finn shrugged. "I believe it will. King Hiram is strong, you know. And good. He'll find a way to win and return everything to normal. At least my mother and I think so." Finn offered casually, noticing how Rachel's face immediately brightened at the idea. "You're a loyalist, then?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light despite the excitement coursing through him. Finally, a concrete piece of information about her that wasn't her name.

"Yes… Yes, I suppose I am." Rachel replied with a sad smile, glancing out the dark window, despite not being able to see anything, in the direction of the great castle. It was maybe a day's ride away, but on a clear day you could just make out the waving banners on the towers over the tops of the trees.

Finn frowned, idly swirling his wine in his cup while he searched for a delicate way to ask his next question. "Do you know anyone fighting over there? A brother? A … father, an uncle? Maybe a, uhh … a courtship?"

Rachel giggled at the last option, raising one perfect eyebrow at him. "A courtship? Really? You think me the type of girl who would allow myself to be kissed by another if I had a suitor off at war?"

"No! No, no, not at all I just … Ahh, I mean…" Finn stammered, lurching forward in his chair despite the ache in his muscles. "… Rachel I'm just trying to get to know you. Your family, your life before McKinley… you've hardly said a word about it." He reminded her, tilting his head in confusion. "Rachel, you know all about me. My parents, my friends, my childhood… Can't you tell me anything?"

Rachel was silent for a long time. That fact alone was enough to unnerve him; Rachel hardly ever came up for air, she spoke so often and so rapidly. To see her moved to silence was terrifying.

"Why is it so important for you to know those things?" she asked quietly, taking another great sip of her wine while she studied the fire.

"Isn't it obvious?" Finn sighed in frustration, taking her wine glass from her to make her focus on him. "Because _I_ want to court you. I'm tired of Quinn, and I wish you would give me a reason to turn her away. But how am I to do that if you won't talk to me?"

Rachel smiled sadly, reaching up a small hand to stroke his cheek affectionately. "I don't speak of my past because I can't. Not yet, anyways. I'm … I hope a day comes when I can, because I'm desperate to open my heart fully to you." She admitted, reaching for his hand; he gave it instantly, interlocking their fingers. Finn studied it for a minute – how small and smooth her hand was in his larger, rough one. "You'll have to just … trust me, for now. That I am exactly the type of girl you think I am, and every ounce deserving of the immeasurable faith I know you will need to give to take me at my word alone."

This was the most honest about their feelings that either of them had been since that night in the library. While that notion put Finn over the moon, that they could really begin something real because she felt the same, Rachel could tell that he was not fully satisfied with the answer. Frowning, she racked her brain for anything she felt safe in divulging.

"… I'll tell you what my father said of yours. Why he trusted him and your family enough to send me here. Can that … can that be enough for now?"

Finn froze. Very few things could budge him lately from his desire to know more about the girl who had captured his very soul… but any news of his father was one of those things. Since he died when Finn was a baby, he was desperate for any stories or knowledge to be gleaned about the man who should've raised him.

Finn nodded silently, squeezing her hand to let her know he was ready. She smiled softly, squeezing back.

"My father fought alongside yours in the last war. They were brothers-in-arms, marching in the same regiment of soldiers for many years. They knew each other well, and often sat together around the fire and spoke about their families… After all, they were both expecting the birth of their first child soon." Rachel explained, placing her other hand on top of their clasped ones to steady him. She could tell, even just moments into her story, that Finn was already shaking.

"My father was the commanding officer at Spade's Ridge… you'll know the battle?" Rachel asked delicately, lowering her eyes in shame. Of course he did. It was the battle that had cost his father his life. Finn frowned, but nodded. He needed to hear this, whatever the truth may be.

"As the sun set on the fourth day of fighting, my father had had enough of men dying. So he selected a small group of men for a special mission under his command; to sneak behind enemy lines in the dead of night, only to emerge from the rear in the heat of the fighting and kill the pretender king, ending the dispute once and for all… Your father was one of the men he chose." She explained, searching Finn's face for any sign that he'd known any of this.

He hadn't. His head lifted immediately, eyebrows creased with confusion and surprise at the news. A special mission? A selection by the commanding officer? His heart, racing from the shock, also began to swell with mournful pride towards his father. So he hadn't just been a knight; he'd been one of great value to his superiors. Rachel smiled softly in return, continuing her tale.

"It was genius. The pretender was slain before barely a drop of blood was shed on the loyalist side. The war was over, the crown preserved. But … that pretender's closest friend, in his rage that it was all over and his friend was dead, drew a blade on my father while his back was turned. He would've died if…" Rachel choked off, a single tear rolling down her own cheek at the look of dawning dismay growing on Finn's face. He knew the ending without her needing to say it. But she did his father's memory the honor of completing the heartbreaking tale.

"… If your father hadn't jumped in front and taken the blow. Saved his life." Rachel concluded, squeezing his hands tightly again. "I'll… I'd understand if you resent me now that you know. That your father died for mine, and that I got to grow up with one instead of you."

"No." Finn said instantly, his face still drawn with the weight of the knowledge he now had. "No, I …He died a hero's death, didn't he? Saving a commanding officer, preserving peace?" he prompted, earning a nod from Rachel.

God, if he only knew how much of a hero his father truly was. Rachel's heart ached to tell him that in reality, the man he had saved was the future King. That the King in his gratitude had bestowed the McKinley lands and title to Finn's mother just before he was born, in an attempt to repay a debt he never could. That the hand Finn was holding in his grief was that of the Crowned Princess, who owed her royal life to Finn's father.

The Hudsons had already saved the life of a royal once. That's why they'd been trusted, without hesitation, to do it again.

"You father was a great man. And mine … would be pleased, I have to believe, to know his son is at my side." Rachel said softly, leaning over to press a firm kiss to Finn's cheek before moving to get up.

"No, wait…" Finn begged, eyes beginning to brim with tears for his father. "Will you sit with me? Please?" Rachel nodded, sinking back down into her chair and squeezing his hand while they both dissolved into tears.


End file.
